Nocturnes at the Window

To the memory of José de Ciria y Escalante. Poet

1

The moon rides high.
The wind runs below.

(My sweeping gaze
explores the sky.)

Moon on water.
Moon below the wind.

(My close gaze
explores the ground.)

Two girls’ voices
approached. Easily
I went from the water’s moon
to the moon in the sky.

2

An arm of night
comes through my window.

A great dark arm
wearing bracelets of water.

On blue crystal
my soul played at rivers.

Moments wounded
by the clock… passed by.

3

I put my head
out of my window and see
how much the wind’s knife
wants to slice it olf.

On this unseen
guillotine. I’ve placed
the eyeless head
of all my desires.

And the lemon scent
filled the immense moment
while the wind became
a bloom of gauze.

4

There today in the pond
a water girl has found death.
Pulled from the pond,
she’s laid out in a shroud.

From her head to her thighs
a fish crosses, calling her name.
The wind says ‘child’,
but can’t wake her.

The pond has shaken out
her seaweed hair,
her grey bared teats
trembling with frogs.

God keep you. We’ll pray
to Our Lady of Water
for the girl in the pond
under the apples, dead.

Later I’ll place two small gourds
beside her so she may float
on the salt sea.
Ay!